


This is how we play

by petrichor_petrichor



Category: Day6 (Band), Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Classical Music, Falling In Love, Jealousy, Love Triangles, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, There's plot, enemies to...enemies, i guess, minho centric, pianist! Bang Chan, rich!Chan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22516999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petrichor_petrichor/pseuds/petrichor_petrichor
Summary: Lying about your passion for classical piano music in order to get into your friend's pants has its ups and downs.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han & Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	This is how we play

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't beta read so bare with

Minho had tried his best to stay away from Chan’s “humble abode” as the owner would like to refer to it as. Minho doesn’t quite understand what’s so “humble” about a three stories, four if you count the basement, mansion with marble flooring in almost every room and a ceiling higher than the note that Seungmin so beautifully managed to sing (read:shout) when Minho kneed him for fat shaming his cat. Seungmin had said it was an accident but had given Minho the bird when he repeated his words after kneeing him. Honestly, it had been an accident. If Minho had kneed him deliberately then he would have used much more force and then done it once more for, you know, good measures. It’s a good memory, really, and Minho’s habit of not being able to conceal his expressions or bubbling laughter when thinking leads to a curious Chan poking his head out from the doorway of his second, yes, he’s got two of them for whatever reason, walk-in closet. 

“Never thought that a Law and Order episode could be considered comedy.” Chan raises a bushy eyebrow and his eyes flicker between Minho who’s laying strewn across the creme coloured custom-made Italian sofa bought from one of those interior stores that makes you fucking /request/ the price instead of just stating it and the 43” flat screen tv on the wall that’s currently showing some more or less gruesome images. If he cares about Minho’s dirty converses leaving stains on it, Chan keeps it to himself. His fingers are busied with a patterned piece of cloth that hangs around his neck. Across, around, around again, up, shove it down the knot and then pull hard.

There’s no way in hell that Minho can tell Chan the true source of his laughter, not without Chan getting into his “I’m going to win the nobel peace prize” mode and bitch and whine at him about it and how it’s morally wrong and whatnot. Look, the guy may attend the local catholic church every Sunday and pray to Jesus every time Minho cusses, but Minho knows that the dude is really a buddhist with all those “anti-kneeing-Seungmin” policies, it’s just that Chan himself hasn’t come to accept it yet! Minho still doesn’t know how he’s supposed to come clean about his loyalty for Nietzsche and even less, how he’s supposed to come clean about wanting to suck Chan off since day one. Something just tells Minho that the Buddhist in Chan would not appreciate that.

“Aha, of course you would say that, you negative smellfungus. I feel bad for you. Growing up filthy rich made you miss out on the really good stuff in life, you know, like laughing when you find a cut off head in the dumpster outside your apartment-” Minho flings an arm out and waves it in the direction of the TV. The poor beloved old lady screams when she lifts the lid. ”-isn’t that fun, eh?”

“Tasteful.” Chan says with pursed his lips and walks over to the wall long mirror by the door. He stares hard at his own reflection. Eyes squinted up in suspicion and brows furrowed in confusion, Chan can’t help but wonder if his reflection thinks what he’s thinking. “Do you think I’d look better with a Eldredge knot?” 

Minho pats the sofa with his left hand as he searches for the black, oblong-There it is! With the push of a thumb on a big red button, Chan has got all of Minho’s attention.

“There’s more than one way to tie a tie knot?” He’s genuinely surprised and a bit disappointed by the new information but honestly, through discovering postmodernism he learned that even the things that are really fucking stupid and generally unneeded still exist wether he likes it or not. Well, it’s not like Minho is very optimistic in the first place either. Nietzsche, remember? 

“Of course there is! A mathematician in Sweden discovered that there are 177,147 different ways to tie a necktie.” Chan flashes a bright grin at Minho.

“Yeah right. We all know that’s bullshit. There’s no people living in Sweden, there’s only polar bears. Are you telling me that polar bears know how to do maths?” Minho asks as he pokes at the hole in his sock that’s making his big toe stick out because that will surely impress his crush.

“And that they know how to tie a tie!” Chan adds before facing the mirror again, teeth gnawing at his lips. “This won’t do.”

Of course it won’t. Of course the person with god given features, silver spoons and dancing fingers won’t ever be satisfied. Minho’s starting to think that Chan’s really just pushing his limits at this point. 

“Does it really matter? It’s Seungmin we’re talking about. Seungmin, you know, the same dude who wore his leopard underwear inside out for three days to school because he was too lazy?-”

Minho crawls forward on the couch, flops down on his stomach and folds his arms over the sofa’s armrest. 

“Those were _my_ leopard underwear and he took them without telling me-”

Chan cocks his head to the side, baring his neck, as he frantically tugs at the knot to try and get it to loosen up. The sight is beautiful but Minho can’t help but to think how good Chan would look if he was loosening up something else instead-

“-Come on Chan, he’s the _last_ person on planet Earth to judge you-”

Minho rests his head against his folded arms and takes a deep breath. Not now, he can’t think about shit like this right now.

“-and my mom gave me a long speech about how I should stick with people from my own social class because you two don’t understand the concept of brands-”

That’s better. Capitalism is a turn off and great for making unwanted boners disappear. 

“-unless you’re trying to impress him?” 

Minho almost, /almost/ doesn’t register that the words actually came from him. And it’s just his damned luck that makes his question come out as a whisper. A hesitant whisper, that is. Like he’s actually worried that Chan will try to get their other friend into bed, which he is, but Chan doesn’t have to know that. How will he ever explain this?

Hesitantly, Minho raises his head and sucks in a deep breath as he’s met with Chan’s eyes boring into his. 

The man really has the fucking audacity to let his voice drop an octave and whisper: “What if I’m trying to impress you instead?” 

And honestly that is just playing dirty by this point, because Minho feels like he’s 16 all over again and is about 1 second away from cumming in his pants because he’s seen a topless mannequin at Sears. 

Chan giggles, like the flirty and awkward libra he is, and straightens up, much like what’s kept inside of Minho’s trousers. Fuck.

“So Chan, what do you think about class differences?”

“Oh you know.” Chan sighs as he saunters back to the mirror to fix his already perfectly fine tie. “People just love to complain because complaining is easier than educating yourself. Because you know what Minho, money may be light but the amount of labour behind those notes are all but that-”

Ah, that’s better.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

“I want to drive.” 

“You are not qualified to drive.”

“I am!”

“Minho for the last time, not falling of rainbow road on Mario Kart does /not/ mean that you know how to drive!”

“I feel like you’re setting unrealistic expectations for me.”

“I’m not.” Chan holds up the door for the passenger seat of his Porsche and lets Minho get in before making his way to the driver’s side. “I just don’t want to die by you ramming into a lamppost, ya know?” 

The keys goes in the visor storage box, accompanying a small plastic bag with flour and a cross. Then Chan checks his reflection for three minutes in either true libra spirit or because he’s a borderline narcissist. 

“Don’t be silly, you can’t die. Your family are politicians after all, which makes you a reptilian, and we all know that reptilians can’t die.”

“Where did you even learn that from?” Chan asks as he sets of for the highway.

“Sims 3.”

“Of course.”

The ride is enjoyed in silence.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

“Oh hey, you got a new Little Tree!” Seungmin greets as he finally comes out from his house and nods at the front of the car.

“Yeah, it’s vanilla! Do you like it?”

“Yeah! I think it matches your personality and sexual life very well! Boring and vanilla.”

“I’ve missed you too, Seungmin.” Chan mutters as his grip tightens around the steering wheel.

“Yeah yeah, whatever, cut the crap. Where’s the twenty dollars that you promised me?” Seungmin asks with a yawn.

“Twenty dollars? Why did he promise you twenty dollars?” Minho’s eyebrows furrow as he turns around in his seat to look at Seungmin in the back.

“Oh, he bribed me to pretend that I didn’t know that we were going to his piano showcase today.” 

“Fuck.” Chan slams on the breaks as an old lady pushes her walker very slowly right in front of the car.

“We are what?” Minho stares at Chan who’s staring ahead. “I thought we were going to a restaurant?”

“And I thought people knew better than to just waltz right out in the middle of the street like that.” Chan hastily croaks out as the car speeds up again.

So he’s been lying to him. If there’s one thing Minho hates, it’s classical music.

“Chan you know how much I hate having to listen-”

“But Minho, I’m performing Brahms tonight! You like Brahms, remember?”

Yeah, Minho remembers _saying_ that. Once, when he tried to get into Chan’s pants. In reality, Minho’s never been one for the romantic era in general, or well, any era in the history of instrumental music ever if he’s being honest. 

“Right.” Minho mutters as Chan pulls into the driveway of the local opera house, one that Minho has unfortunately gotten familiar with. “I’ll just have to see if there’s anyone hot that’s going to be performing so that I can daydream about them instead.

Chan releases a laugh when he finishes parking the car.

“I doubt it, there’s only going to be men performing.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Minho falls asleep on the spot, head resting on Seungmin’s shoulder who’s crunching away on a bag of salt and vinegar chips. Thank God for whoever decided that the only light in the grand, circular venue should be directed at the pianist performing. 

A sudden and unmistakable increase in the volume of the applause from the audience wakes him up from his nap. With groggy eyes clouded with sleep and dancing specks of dust and light, Minho manages to recognise the figure that has caught everybody’s attention. It makes its way to the piano that’s placed in the center, sits down on the piano bench and flashes a grin in Minho’s direction before fixating its gaze on the notes in front of it. 

And then, Minho feels the warmth of someone’s breath against the shell of his left ear.

“Brahms, and an Eldredge knot.” The stranger whisper before pausing to think. “What a fucking twerp.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I took a hiatus because I got too insecure about my English in general and yeaah
> 
> I won't abandon this one.
> 
> I won't continue on the unfinished Woochan ones I have because I've decided to stop writing about Woojin (I still love him just as much as I did before but I think you get the gist of why I'll stop)
> 
> Kudos/comments are v v appreciated <3


End file.
